So tell me when you hear my heart stop You're the only one that knows

- "Possibility" - Lykke Li

Bradley wasn't answering Maverick's calls to his cell, and Bradley eventually turned his cell off completely as he finished packing up his things. The furniture would have to wait, most of it was pieces they had moved from his mother's house, and because of that Bradley knew Maverick would never get rid of them. Only issue was how to get them out of the apartment.

They could wait, though. One of Bradley's friends from work had said Bradley could crash with him until he figured something out.

He debated taking the pictures - pictures of his dad, pictures of him…but decided to leave them. Let Maverick see them and realize what he'd messed up yet again.

The house phone started ringing, and he stared at it, debating on whether or not to answer, and then continued to shove belongings into a piece of luggage and let the machine pick it up.

He heard the answering machine engage and expected to again hear Maverick's plaintive voice, but instead the voice was expressionless…even icy…

Shit…

"Bradley, this is Tom Kazansky."

Ooohhh. Not Ice or Uncle Ice? Not good, he thought, as another voice reminded him: and what exactly were you expecting?

"I'd like to sit down and have a…talk… with you as soon as possible. I also left a message on your cellphone." A pause, and then, "Call me. We need to talk soon."

And then the phone hung up and the answering machine started to beep. Bradley stared at the machine from across the apartment, frozen in place.

Should he call Ice back?

It had only been a few hours since he'd hung up on Maverick and effectively ended his relationship with the older man.

With the only father he could solidly remember.

With the man who had helped raise him without hesitation.

The man who was a part of so many memories.

The man who, even if he was on deployment, always called or sent a card on his birthday.

The man who had sat by Carole's bedside for weeks and weeks, had sat up with Bradley all night as she grew weaker and died just before midnight…

The man who had loved him since the day he was born.

His heart hurt. A small part of him wanted to call Maverick at once and apologize, even though he was still angry, just to hear his voice; that small part of him even wanted to call just to hear Maverick sing the lullaby Carole used to sing to him when he was little…

But the anger (and embarrassment) won out, and Bradley tossed the now full duffel by the front door and went to put smaller items in his backpack.

Let Mav stew for a while. Let him sit on what he'd done.

For his entire life, or at least since he was around six or seven, old enough to fully understand what "danger" meant, Bradley had known that Maverick could be - tended to be - dangerous. He'd heard the story before, of before Ice and Mav were friends, how Ice had told Maverick:

"I don't like you because you're dangerous. You're unsafe."

And to be fair, that was a true assessment. Maverick was dangerous because he was trying to prove himself and enjoyed pushing the envelope.

Bradley was used to Mav toying with his own life but he never thought Maverick would meddle in his. Not like this.

Scold him because he pushed another boy on the playground? Normal dad behavior.

Advise him when Bradley started hanging out with some…questionable…kids at school: expected.

But pull his application and then not even tell him, not even talk to him? Unacceptable.

Maverick said he wasn't ready. Bradley wanted to prove him otherwise.

He took a meandering walk through the apartment, taking a last glance to see if he'd overlooked anything. Satisfied, Bradley removed the apartment key from his key ring and slapped it on the counter, complete with the tiny key tag attached that said "BB Apt Key."

He picked up his bags and walked out of the apartment without looking back.

Ice stepped back into his office after calling Maverick and Bradley's house phone and leaving a message. His calls to the boy's cell had gone straight to voicemail, a passive-aggressive message in and of itself.

Ice had been tortured watching Maverick, slumped forward in the chair in front of Ice's desk, call Bradley over and over, and leave him several voicemails himself, before finally giving up.

Watching Maverick surrender, be defeated, was something Ice had never, ever, thought he'd witness again.

As horrible as he could have pictured it, seeing that defeat sit in front of him, in a wrinkled uniform with dark circles under the eyes, was far worse than he'd imagined.

Last year, when Maverick had paced Iceman's office on the day he knew he needed to fulfill his promise to Carole, Ice had asked Maverick to let him be the one to call, but Maverick had - predictably - refused. Now Ice was regretting not digging his heels in more, even though he knew that Mav would never have allowed his friend to make the call for him.

But he felt so helpless now, looking at Maverick staring at his feet, bent almost in half as he rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, still softly weeping. His phone was resting on one of those legs, and even though Ice couldn't see his face, he knew Maverick was staring at the phone, willing it to ring.

Ice sighed heavily, his own desk phone on mute, his emails piling up.

He pulled out his cell again, this time calling his wife.

"Sarah," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Maverick.

"I'll be home early, and I'm bringing Maverick with me."

"Well, that's great, Tom! But you didn't need to call and tell me that, as happy as I am to talk to you," she replied cheerfully. Tom wasn't home early much anymore…hardly ever in fact.

"Sarah, Pete is having a…really bad day. Just wanted to give you a heads up. We'll see you soon."

"Oh…okay, honey, love you."

"Love you too, Sarah."

Ice stared at the top of Maverick's head. The other man hadn't moved a muscle during Ice's call to his wife. At least Ice knew he hadn't had another vasovagal response…shit.

Could be another fugue state, Ice thought to himself. He remembered when Maverick had gone into a dissociative state after they'd rescued the SS Layton, his traumatized mind thinking Goose was still alive, that Cougar hadn't yet turned in his wings, that Hollywood and Wolf were missing somewhere on the carrier…

At least he'd been speaking then…

He left the room for a moment, telling Kurzweil that there was a "family emergency" and that he would be leaving for the rest of the day. Kurzweil's eyebrows puckered until the Admiral said:

"And yes, I'm taking Captain Mitchell with me."

Then those eyebrows relaxed. "Yes, sir. I'll field your calls for the afternoon."

"And Shorty…remember…"

"Not a word to anyone, sir."

Ice gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, Eric."

Back in his office, Ice again got down on one knee, gently placing his hands on Mav's arms, rubbing them, then one arm snaked around and began to rub Maverick's back in firm motions. With the other arm he again pulled Maverick to his shoulder, with little resistance from the captain. Mav clung to Ice, his arms encircling his friend, desperately needing the tactile comfort, the touch. His breaths were shaky in Ice's ear but at least the crying had momentarily stopped.

Maverick burrowed his face into the place where Ice's shoulder and neck met, Ice doing breathing exercises to get Maverick to follow along, to get himself together, at least just enough to get to the car.

"C'mon, Mav," Ice whispered, rubbing his back. "Let's go home, hmm?"

Maverick shook his head violently, almost head-butting Ice in the process, and hugging Ice even tighter.

"No. Can't go home. Bradley."

Ice squinched his eyes shut. Mav thought they were going to his home, which would either grant him the sight of an angry Bradley in the process of moving out, or an apartment with Bradley totally gone. Neither were things Maverick wanted - or needed - to see right now.

"No, Pete," Ice soothed. "My home."

After a minute Mav nodded against Ice's head, and Ice moved his arms so they were under Maverick's and helped him to his feet, both men steadying each other.

Ice handed Maverick another Kleenex and he wiped at his face and blew his nose.

"Do you need to grab anything before we go?" Iced asked gently, but Maverick again did that violent head shake.

"I just want to get out of here," Maverick said in a strangled, hoarse whisper.

They managed to leave base without too many sidelong glances, and Ice drove home as quickly as he could. Maverick didn't even make a comment about Ice driving over the speed limit - a definite sign that he was not okay.

When they walked inside Maverick stood in the foyer adrift, unsure of what to do. Ice pulled a confused Sarah to the kitchen, simply saying that Maverick and Bradley had had a falling out. She looked at him questioningly but knew he'd explain when he was ready, as shocking as it was.

"Bradley cut him off?" Sarah whispered incredulously. "What could Maverick have possibly done to warrant that?"

"It's…I'll tell you later. I'm hoping Bradley is going to cool off and move on from this, and it can't come soon enough."

Sarah sighed heavily, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of Maverick staring into nothing in the foyer, his arms folded.

"God, Tom, I haven't seen him look like that since Carole died…"

"I know. For now, I'm just going to not let him out of my sight. Sarah…he had a syncope episode in my office."

Sarah put her hand to her mouth in shock. "Oh, God…oh, Maverick…okay, how about I make some hot tea and you get him into more comfortable clothes and make him sit down? He looks like he's going to collapse."

Mav did look a little tottery on his feet, so Ice gently took the other man by the elbow and guided him up to the guest bedroom, where Mav had stayed when he and Bradley lived with the Kazanskys for a while.

Ice grabbed some of his own clothes from his dresser and handed them to Maverick, who hadn't said a word since he came inside the house. Ice turned his back while Maverick changed clothes, still silent. Ice then turned around, and saw Maverick sitting on the bed, nearly catatonic.

Shit…

Ice sat down on the bed next to his friend, again applying firm pressure across his upper back, rolling his fist back and forth.

"Mav," he said softly. "It's going to be okay. He's just angry, he'll get over it."

Maverick was still staring into nothing, and the Admiral wasn't even sure Maverick had heard him, until Mav finally spoke.

"Ice," came the barely audible whisper. "Did I do the right thing?"

Tom sucked in a breath while he thought about an adequate answer.

"Pete, you fulfilled a promise to one of your closest friends. Would you have been able to forgive yourself if you didn't keep your promise to Carole?"

It was several long moments before Maverick could answer that question.

"No," came another barely audible whisper from Maverick. "But…"

"Pete, regardless, he simply isn't ready yet, and it was an act of love both to do your part to keep him safe, and to keep your promise to your best friend's wife, okay?" He squeezed Mav's shoulders reassuringly.

"You wanna stay up here, or come sit downstairs?"

"Downstairs," Maverick muttered. Being in this room reminded him of when Carole died, and that reminded him of Bradley, which reminded him of Goose…

"Okay, come on."

Ice guided him downstairs and sat Maverick down on the couch, and returned to the kitchen to help his wife, who was tossing tea bags in the trash. She walked to the other side of the kitchen so she could take a look at Maverick on the couch.

"Oh, wow, Tom…I just want to wrap him in a blanket and tell him it'll be alright."

Ice raised his eyebrows a touch.

"Sarah…maybe we should?"

She nodded, carrying a cup of tea while Tom carried the other two.

They sat down on either side of him without saying a word, Sarah grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch and, even though it was late May, drew the blanket tightly around him, knowing how well he responded to deep pressure. Maverick looked over at her, his eyes welling with tears, and soon hers were too.

"Thank you, Sarah," he whispered, tears starting to roll down his cheeks as he turned his head and looked over at Ice. "I just want to talk to him…"

"I know, Pete," Ice responded, and, a little hesitantly at first, pulled Maverick down so he was lying in Ice's lap. Ice and Sarah both held him as best they could as he cried tears of regret, guilt, sorrow, and grief.

Ice's last promise to Carole was to make sure that Maverick knew he was loved. He was doing his best to keep that promise.

It had been six days since Bradley had struck out on his own, leaving the apartment he'd shared with Maverick, not listening to any of the frantic voicemails his adopted father had left him. He'd had one more message from Uncle Ice, which he did listen to, but it was nearly identical to the one left on the apartment answering machine.

He was working back in the kitchen when his manager came and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Bradshaw, go take your break, customer in the dining room said he's here to visit with ya."

Bradley spun around. What? Seriously?

"Is he around five foot seven or eight, dark hair?"

"Nope."

Bradley relaxed a fraction. So not Mav… but if not Mav, then…crap.

"I don't wanna talk to him, boss."

"He seems pretty insistent, Bradshaw. Doesn't seem like the type to leave until he gets what he wants."

Uncle Ice wouldn't go down without a fight, that was for sure.

"Go. Seems important."

Bradley sighed and headed out of the kitchen, spotting Ice immediately. His uncle was in civilian clothes (Bradley couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Uncle Ice out of uniform, certainly not since 9/11 when he'd been working constantly), flipping a pen around his fingers, and did not smile when Bradley walked over. His face didn't change at all, he only gestured to a chair, indicating for Bradley to sit.

Bradley sat and stared at the older man across the table.

"You're a hard man to get a hold of, Bradley."

Bradley snorted. "You really had to come down here to my job?"

"You didn't leave me much choice, did you? Won't answer calls, won't return messages…Maverick has called you several times a day, don't tell me you didn't notice."

Bradley folded his arms.

"Besides, I heard your calzones are pretty good," Ice said, his tone light but his facial expression remained unchanged.

"I don't want to talk to him. And frankly, I don't really want to talk to you either. Don't tell me you didn't know."

Bradley paused, then said: "Oh yeah. You knew. Hell you were probably next to him when he did it."

Damn, Ice thought. Hard to fool someone we raised, I guess.

Ice still didn't respond, and Bradley nodded.

"That's what I thought."

Ice took a long, deep breath, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. Bradley threw his hands in the air before resting them on the table, dropping his head a little.

"Uncle Ice, I want to know why he did it. He said I'm not ready but…I am. And anyway it's my decision…I…"

He trailed off as Ice's expression finally changed a smidgen.

"Bradley, Maverick loves you. More than anyone. Far more than himself. Hell, even more than he loves me."

Bradley knew this last comment was supposed to make him smile but he suppressed it.

"That's not an answer, Ice."

"Maverick already gave you an answer, Bradley."

Ice almost wanted to tell Bradley the rest of the truth - "your mother made Maverick promise not to let you fly, and the world is different now, and Maverick wanted to do anything in his power to keep you safe."

But Maverick truthfully didn't think Bradley was ready for the Navy, and he'd promised Mav that he wouldn't share the fact that it was Carole's dying request to Maverick, not with Bradley or with anyone, and so the original answer would stand.

Bradley was shaking his head. "That's not much of an answer."

Ice gave him a one-shoulder shrug.

"This is going to set me back years. You know that. But you know what's worse, Ice?"

Iceman stared at him as Bradley continued.

"The worst thing is that he couldn't even talk to me about it. That I found out from a stranger six fucking months after he did it. That the only answer he gives me is that I'm not ready."

Bradley sat back in the chair, folding his arms. "I know when Mav is hiding something, Ice. If he loves me so much why can't he tell me the truth? Huh?"

Because of his love for your mother, Ice said, but only in his mind. Out loud, he said:

"Listen, I understand why you're angry. I do. But are you really going to keep this up? Ignoring your dad like this? He's devastated, Bradley. He misses you terribly. We all miss you."

Bradley scowled. He missed Maverick too, and his realization of that just made him angrier.

"He's not my dad…"

Ice's eyes narrowed. If Bradley brought up the accident that killed Goose, Ice would probably have to bury the boy right here under the restaurant flooring.

"He's the closest thing to a dad that you have solid memories of, I'll bet. Do you remember your first day of preschool, where Maverick brought us all to your house and we took you every day that first week? All our trips to the zoo? Do you remember your first baseball game?"

Bradley vaguely remembered going to school with Maverick, Ice, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman as his drop-off team, along with mom. And he remembered their trips to the San Diego Zoo. And he definitely did remember his first baseball game; and all the practices and games Maverick showed up to even though he'd never played baseball as a kid and sometimes had to be instructed on gameplay.

He remembered all the times he'd fallen asleep with Maverick on the couch while watching a movie, waking up in the morning to find his mom had tossed a blanket over them and set out glasses of water in case they woke up thirsty. When Maverick would pretend to still be asleep until just the right moment, when he would suddenly start tickling the boy, both of them laughing together…

But that hurt in Bradley's heart won out again as he tensed up.

"I do remember, but that was then. I'm an adult now, and he - both of you - are still treating me like I'm a child. I am joining the Navy, I am going to be an aviator. With your help or without it."

Bradley was surprised to see Tom's shoulders drop ever so slightly, and to see him take a long pause, as if sorting something out in his mind.

Finally Iceman spoke.

"Bradley…if that is what you decide to do, I want you to know that as an Admiral in the United States Navy, I won't hold you back. I won't be biased if I end up having to assign you somewhere. I will treat you fairly, and if you ever need anything, I will still help you, okay?"

Bradley was taken aback and touched. He hadn't been expecting this…

"But Bradley, I need to tell you something else," Ice's voice had a sudden edge to it.

Bradley leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "What?"

"For about one or two minutes, starting now, I am not here as an Admiral of the Navy. I'm not even here as Uncle Ice. I am here as Pete Mitchell's best friend and protector, do you understand?"

Bradley nodded nervously. Ice had never said he wasn't a Navy officer - the man lived and breathed it. And he had never, ever temporarily removed himself from Uncle-status.

Ice leaned forward, his eyes burning.

"How dare you tell him you wish he'd died in Afghanistan? You have no idea - none - what we, what Maverick experienced there. No fucking clue. Never mind that he hasn't even had time to recover from this last tour that you have to go and say something like that. It crossed the line, do you understand me?"

His voice now had a low, dangerous undertone, something Bradley had never realized his uncle was capable of. Uncle Ice got stern, but never threatening. Not for the first time, or the last, Bradley was glad he wasn't an enemy plane going into a dogfight against Iceman…even though it certainly felt that way in this moment…

But Bradley gave Ice a nod; he knew that last thing he'd said to Mav was crossing the line, but he was so angry…

"The last words he heard you say were those. He's a goddamn wreck. I know that this may take a while to heal, and I completely understand that. But Bradley…if you ever say anything like that to Maverick again I will end you, do you understand?" His voice, though angry, had dropped to a hard whisper, so no one would be able to overhear this last line.

Bradley wasn't sure if "end" meant end Bradley's career in the Navy or if it meant something worse, but he wasn't about to question it. The steel in Ice's eyes was not a bluff, neither was the grim set to his mouth.

"I understand," Bradley said simply, looking down at the tabletop.

Iceman nodded and leaned back to his original posture, now gently tapping the pen on the tabletop, his face back to his usual expression. Bradley noticed that though his face had been red with anger only a moment ago, it was now already back to its usual pallor.

"Okay, I'm back to Uncle Ice now. But that needed to be said." He glanced away from Bradley then, seemingly thinking something else through.

Bradley's heart had been pounding during that small exchange. If anyone knew how protective Uncle Ice was, especially over his loved ones, it was Bradley.

Maverick must really be struggling for Ice to say all of that…Bradley thought.

But…no. Let him stew for a little while longer.

"Uncle Ice…I'm…I'm sorry for that last thing I said. You're right, it was really uncalled for."

Ice sighed. He wasn't proud about what he'd said to Bradley but he needed to get the point across about how serious he was.

"Listen, kiddo, we love you. I know you're angry, I know this has been the plan for a long time. I know it seems like this is him being cruel, but it's not."

Bradley sat back in the chair. Maverick was many things, but cruel was not one of them. Not even close. He was cunning and reckless, and he was also loyal and loving.

But then why…

Bradley still hadn't said anything, and it didn't escape Iceman that Bradley had apologized for the Afghanistan comment but not for anything else.

Ice and Bradley stared at each other across the table, Ice having resumed flipping the pen around his fingers, Bradley sitting with his arms folded over his chest.

Ice narrowed his eyes slightly, knowing how stubborn this kid was. Ice had known him since he was four years old, after all.

Ice sighed heavily then.

"Bradley…I can't make you call him. I can't make you forgive him, or me. All I can say is that we're here when you're ready to talk, okay?"

Bradley stared at his lap.

"Okay," was all he said.

Ice stood up then, looking down at the young man.

"Just don't wait too long to call, alright? Maverick misses you terribly, Bradley."

Bradley still wouldn't look at him, even though his heart ached. He badly wanted to hug his Uncle Ice, wanted to follow him back to the house and find Maverick and hug him too, wanted to lay with him on the couch and have Maverick run his hands through his hair like he did when Bradley was little. He wanted to see Sarah and talk to her about his life. But he kept this all to himself. He simply said again:

"Okay."

Ice hesitated, hovering by Bradley's shoulder, the young man still avoiding his eyes. Ice laid his hand on Bradley's shoulder for a moment and walked out the door.

It was everything in Bradley not to chase him out the door.

They wouldn't speak again for two years.